Oh Mister Holmes
by Galleon Eye
Summary: Sherlock and Irene are not interrupted next to the fireside in 221b. Adlock. One shot. Smut.


**Oh Mister Holmes**

**Summary: Sherlock and Irene are not interrupted next to the fireside in 221b. Adlock. One shot. Smut.**

**For all those reading 'Dancing With The Devil' I am on holiday at present and am without my laptop, so this is just a one-shot to fill in for the slight delay!**

"Oh Mister Holmes, if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?" Irene Adler leaned in close to the aforementioned man having abandoned the seat opposite him to lean over him suggestively. Her eyes dancing in the light of the fire as she gazed at him expectantly.

Sherlock Holmes felt awkward under her experienced gaze. He didn't know what she meant. Dinner was just a meal and he had made it perfectly clear to her that he wasn't hungry.

"I told you, I'm not hungry." He said evenly, "and don't say 'good' again." He added as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Do you understand what I mean when I say dinner?" She asked, her lips coiling into a provocative smirk.

"Of course." Sherlock answered briskly. "Dinner is the third and last meal of the day in most cultures. It is usually hot, and by that I mean cooked and is served on a plate containing meat, vegetables and occasionally gravy. It is also normally the biggest meal of the day as it must load you up with carbohydrates and other-"

"That's not what I meant." Irene silenced his expansive explanation before he had even reached the halfway point.

"Then what did you mean?" He asked through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Peeved that she had firstly, interrupted him and secondly, seemed to have a definition of the word 'dinner' that differed from the rest of the world.

"I was talking about sex." She replied casually, her eyes searching his face for the first signs of a reaction.

Sherlock however, kept his metal mask firmly in place. He looked as though he was unfazed by he euphemism but his mind was whirring away in alarm. Sex didn't alarm him. He insisted to himself. Not in the sense Mycroft had meant anyway. He simply considered himself above such primal instincts and was terrified that the vague tightness he felt in his trousers as he looked at the woman before him now, made him ordinary... normal.

"So mister Holmes." Irene continued seductively, "Do you want to have sex with me?" She bit lip her lip for effect ad noticed the slight change in his breathing pattern.

"Irene..." He said slowly, attempting to politely push her away from him. But she was having none of it and only leaned in further, invading his personal bubble.

Her lips were slightly parted and he gulped as he looked at them. Moving his head slightly closer to hers so that their lips were only centimetres apart.

"No." He murmured quietly, his breath hot on her face and he watched disappointment seep into her features, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "I want to make love to you." He finished breathlessly.

Irene let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding as he finished his sentence. She had had plenty of sexual partners in her time. Men when she was in her teens but for a few years now, only women, and all that time she had still been a practising dominatrix. Yes, she hadn't certainly had her fair share of sex. But no one had ever made love to her before. No one had ever wanted to. And she found that there was something strangely erotic about the prospect.

She moved her head in even more, her eyes holding his steadily, their lips brushing feather-like against each other. They sat gazing into each others eyes for as long as either of them could manage. The tension mounting until suddenly, something snapped in Sherlock as his hands reached to the back of her head to pull her face closer to his, their lips crashing together at last.

Irene's eyes closed instantly as the jerky movement made her lose her balance, and sent her toppling forward into Sherlock's lap, straddling him. This only increased the tension further and her arms went up to wrap around his neck, pulling them closer still as his tongue gained entrance to her mouth. She moaned into the kiss as his hands moved in circles over her hips, back and bum, teasing through the fabric of his blue dressing gown.

Her own hands clawed through his hair hungrily as he tilted his head upward towards her to deepen the kiss. She could feel his growing arousal under her and slowly ground her hips against his, causing them both to emit inhumane sounds.

During their heated embrace, Sherlock's dressing gown had come loose and undone, revealing her naked form to him.

Sherlock removed his mouth from hers to trail kisses down her neck until he reached her breasts. He took one erect nipple in his mouth, causing her to throw her head back with a breathy sigh. His tongue flicked over the pink bud as his other hand moved to her other breast, taking it in his palm and moulding it in his grasp.

"Sherlock." Her voice was husky as she expelled his name in pleasure before taking his head in both hands and dragging it up until their lips collided.

Sherlock could tell that the chair they were currently seated in would restrict their upcoming movements and so picked Irene up carefully. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist as he carried her to his room an lay her gently on his bed. Stepping back to remove his top and trousers before climbing back over her form -which was now void of his dressing gown altogether.

They both gasped as their naked forms pressed together, only Sherlock's underwear stood in the way of full frontal nudity. Sherlock gently pulled Irene's head up to meet his own, his other had cupping a breast lustily.

Irene's hands roamed over his broad shoulders and muscular back, her nails scratching gently, leaving their mark. She couldn't be bothered with foreplay. Not this time. She wanted him and she wanted him now.

He reflected her sentiments and roughly shoved his boxers down hi legs, toeing them off his feet as he paused, hovering above her. He gave her a quizzical look, in response she nodded, her breathing shallow and erratic.

He entered her slowly at first, savouring the moment. But the second thief hips kissed, he pulled back and thrust again indelicately. He felt her nails dig into his back and claw their way down, releasing web they reached his waist. Her legs curling around his hips as he set about a desperate, steady rhythm.

While on the run, Irene had been void of this genre of pleasure. Sherlock had never experienced it before. Their resolves were consequently weak, and neither could be bothered with taking their time. Sherlock's hands held her waist to the bed as he pounded into her. He could feel her start to contract around him and could feel himself coming close too. He tilted his hips and with one final thrust hit Irene's g-spot.

"Oh Mister Holmes!" She cried as her orgasm overtook her. Sherlock bit his lip in concentration and it wasn't long before he too found his release. He collapsed on her, trying to regain his regular respiratory pattern.

"Do you know what Moriarty calls you?" She asked as he rolled off her, propping herself up on her elbow to study his face. "The virgin." She savoured the last word, smirking, "Well he can't do that anymore now can he?"


End file.
